The One Who Lit the Orchard Sky

I felt you breathing at the gate,
your pulse like lanterns in the wheat;
I gathered silence in my hands
and crossed the dusk on bare, slow feet.

Your name was written in the air,
a quiet script of molten gold;
I traced it once along your spine—
and watched the guarded night unfold.

I led you where the orchards sleep,
through folded boughs and fragrant dark;
each hesitant, astonished breath
became the tinder for a spark.

No haste. I knew the path by feel—
the hidden orchard past the veil;
until the trembling constellations
rose and crowned us in their trail.

Written by Rhythm Tan
From the Still Poetry House archive